


Still We Are, Have Always Been

by spacetrek



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Post Episode: Zurich, i love this terrible airline family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrek/pseuds/spacetrek
Summary: After leaving for Swiss Airways, Martin decides to keep up via letter.  Douglas thinks it's ridiculous, but that won't stop him from writing back.
Relationships: Martin Crieff & Douglas Richardson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	Still We Are, Have Always Been

There’s a letter waiting for him at Fitton.

Douglas knows who it’s from even before he sees the handwritten name up in the corner of the envelope — he’s seen enough notes and charts in Martin’s loopy scrawl. Why a letter, though? Martin has his number. He could text or call.

Well, he’ll know more after he reads the letter.

 _Hello Douglas,_ it says. _I’m not sure when you’ll see this, because you only check your post box when you have a delivery—_ and that would be a ridiculous sentence to anyone who didn’t know what sort of ‘deliveries’ Douglas used his post box for— _but I felt like writing a letter, so I did._

Why a letter? Because he felt like it. Classic Martin.

 _I hope you and the rest of MJN are doing well. I’m still settling in, but I think—_ there’s a heavy black ink dot on the paper, like Martin had paused and forgotten to lift his pen up. _I think I’ll be happy here._

Douglas gives himself exactly ten seconds to feel that kind of old-man nostalgia he’s increasingly losing against these days, then sets himself to consider a response. They live in the digital age. It would be easier (not to mention cheaper) to send a text, or even an email. It would make infinitely more sense.

Douglas sighs. Martin has somehow infected him with his utter ridiculousness.

He flips over one of the schedules Carolyn has pointedly left on his desk and scrounges up a pen. He can get another copy later, and both Martin and Carolyn will probably have words regarding his choice of writing material.

He’s looking forward to it.

*****

It’s a learning curve for all of them.

On their second flight, Arthur asks if Douglas minds being called ‘Skip.’ He’s hesitant, and Douglas can’t blame him, not after—

 _(He’s not Skip._ Martin _is Skip)_

Well. After last time.

He rethinks it a little more carefully. “Yes,” he says. “If you're feeling lucky.”

“Sure thing,” Arthur says, grinning like Douglas has said something clever, and they go on.

*****

 _OJS Air is great name,_ says the next letter, the one after the awful flight to Omsk. Douglas is unreasonably pleased to see that Martin has decided to continue their absurd snail-mail correspondence. _Or, as Arthur would say, a brilliant name._

They’d phoned just two nights ago — Martin was at home in Zurich and Douglas was enduring a four-hour delay in Russia — but, at least for right now, there’s an unspoken moratorium on acknowledging the letters over phone or text and vice versa.

It’s very silly, but Douglas has done sillier things for less. The vast majority of their word games comes to mind.

He writes his response on the back of an unused tax form.

*****

“Watcha reading, Douglas?” Arthur sets a cup of coffee at Douglas’ elbow and tries to read the letter without looking like he’s trying to read the letter, and fails both at acting and reading.

“A letter from Martin.” He hasn’t told the others about the letters, but there’s no real reason for the correspondence to be kept secret.

“Skip wrote you a letter?! Brilliant!” Arthur sits down so fast he nearly knocks his chair over. “What’s it say?”

Douglas takes a moment to consider, like he hasn’t already read it through twice. “Mostly that he’s suffering immensely from the heat and humidity of Central America.” Douglas hands it over for Arthur to read himself. “What I’d really like to know is how he knew to send it to Peillon, rather than just leave it at Fitton.” Arthur immediately goes red. “Ah. Do you have information about Martin’s sudden omniscience, Arthur?”

“I mean, I was texting Skip about this trip because Mum’s been fretting for absolute ages, and he usually liked to know, so—” Arthur stops, looking awkward.

“So you thought he might like to know about this one, too.” Douglas sits for a moment, prodding at the odd Martin-shaped absence like one might prod one’s tongue at the space where a tooth had once been before it was removed, and he knew that Arthur was doing the same. “Well, he seems to have made use of the information,” he says at last. “Well done, Arthur.”

Arthur lights up like Christmas.

The coffee isn’t terrible, and overall Douglas thinks he’ll count this day as a win.

*****

_I’m in Timbuktu — actual, proper Timbuktu — and I’ve got something for Arthur._

Arthur goes nearly hysterical with delight over the slightly blurry photograph of a camel, obviously taken through the window of a cab. Even Carolyn smiles when Douglas reads the last few lines aloud: “Tell Carolyn that I did see a pizza place. It was at the airport, but I think it still counts.”

“Ridiculous,” Carolyn says, already dialing Martin’s number.

Martin doesn’t pick up — probably flying out — but Carolyn tells him exactly what she thinks of his pizza place nonsense, and puts him on speaker phone long enough for Arthur to make an absolute hash of thanking him for the camel photo. Herc offers some comment about how he thinks he’s been to that pizza place, actually, back in ’89.

Douglas doesn’t chime in. He’s busy weighing the risk/reward ratio of pinching part of the wall chart to write his response.

*****

_I’m flying with another captain tonight — Captain Brunner. I’ve met her before, and she’s very nice, but neither she nor Captain Loutre are much for word games. I used to hate those. I thought you weren’t taking things seriously. You weren’t, of course, but I did get used to the games, and long flights were definitely less boring because of them._

Martin was definitely more to Douglas’ liking as a sparring partner than Herc. Oh, he’ll play along often enough, but he lacks Martin’s enthusiasm and slightly panicked creativity.

Also he’s really quite good, and while a guaranteed victory is a little boring, an _almost_ guaranteed victory is just fine. Almost ideal.

He thinks about the last line of his communiqué before he actually writes it down, but he doesn’t leave his pen on the paper to make ink dots everywhere like Martin does.

_Real people whose names sound like action heroes._

*****

“You seem preoccupied,” says Herc, not looking up from his post-flight checks.

“Mm, yes. Just wondering: if you’re playing a word game and you both say the same thing, does it count for either of you?”

Herc does look up then. “I don’t remember that happening.”

“No, because it didn’t involve you. There are things that you’re not part of. Quite a lot of things, in fact.”

Herc rolls his eyes. “Then far be it from me to get involved now.”

Douglas, suddenly struck by a brilliant (he spends far too much time with Arthur) idea, pulls out his phone.

“Martin,” he says, after waiting for Martin’s too-long recorded message spiel to end, “what time did you write your last letter?” He lowers the phone and is half a second from hanging up when another thought occurs to him. “And I don’t give a toss about Beijing being twelve hours ahead of New York. We’re equalizing timezones on this.”

Herc is blatantly staring. “Are you playing word games with Martin via phone?”

“Of course not, Herc, don’t be ridiculous.” Douglas claps his hat on his head and stands up. “I’m playing word games with Martin via post.”

He ducks out of the flight deck before Herc can say anything else.

*****

“Lance Armstrong.”

_Harrison Ford._

“Max Fightmaster.”

_I looked that one up because I was sure you were lying, but he’s actually a real person. Good one. Magnus Ver Magnusson._

“Martin, please. I don’t need to make things up to win. Wolf Blitzer.”

*****

There’s no letter at Peillon.

Douglas is, perhaps, just a little disappointed. Peillon has proved surprisingly popular with tourists this year, and both times OJS Air graced Nice Côte d'Azur Airport with its presence there’s been a letter waiting for him.

Martin is a first officer with an international airline, though, and he’s certainly busier than Douglas. He’s faithful enough with his correspondence, and there will probably be a letter waiting at Fitton.

Their round of “real people whose names sound like action heroes” ends today — in a few minutes, in fact — so if Martin’s letter is timestamped later than Douglas’ last one, Douglas is the winner.

Not bad, for mail-order games.

Someone clears their throat behind him. “Message for Captain Douglas Richardson?”

Douglas nearly wrenches his neck turning around. He knows how surprised he must look, but there’s really nothing to be done about it.

Martin is standing there, looking both very happy and incredibly pleased with himself. “Powers Boothe,” he says.

Douglas doesn’t let himself overthink it. He lunges forward and pulls Martin into a hug. He feels more than hears Martin’s startled laugh by his ear, and pushes his friend back to look at him.

He looks — he looks good. Oh, he’s still skinny and short and freckley, but not even Douglas could do anything about that. He’s relaxed in a way Douglas has never really seen, and he’s carrying himself like he belongs in his uniform in this airport, and not like he’s expecting security to throw him out at any moment.

“It’s good to see you,” Douglas says, surprise keeping him honest.

Martin’s expression softens. “It’s good to see you too.” He ducks his head — a familiar gesture — but only for a moment. “I’m here overnight with Captain Brunner, and you were complaining—"

“Mentioning.”

“—complaining, about how you were headed to Peillon for the second time in six months, and I thought it might be fun to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” Douglas says, and Martin smiles.

“Are Carolyn and Arthur here?”

“And Herc.”

“Of course.” Martin lets Douglas pull him over to a bench; not to sit down, just to avoid blocking foot traffic. “What’s it like? Being his captain.”

“Oh, we’re both a little washed up,” Douglas says, “but it’s good enough. Certainly better than the other way around.” Martin snorts. “He’s a more accomplished wordsmith than you.”

“Brave words from the man who lost the last round—” Martin checks his watch “—forty-five seconds ago.”

“We tied.”

“Nope.” The unbearably smug look is back. “My letter’s probably still in transit, but I wrote it yesterday at seven forty-three local time.”

“Damn. I guess that means you get to pick the next topic.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Martin promises. They’ve started walking, Douglas leading, back to where he left the rest of OJS Air near baggage.

“I look forward to it.” Douglas spots his ragtag airdot, Carolyn clearly winding up for a bicker with Herc, and puts on his best airline captain voice. “Lady and gentlemen, we have another passenger for this excursion.” He steps sideways. “Allow me to introduce you to First Officer Martin Crieff.”

*****

“I really do think you should stop writing your letters on official documents. I have to wait until I’m by myself to read them because I’m afraid someone will get suspicious of me for having another airline’s passenger list.”

“It’s all part of the game, my friend.”

“Fine. Cities that sound like brand names.”

**Author's Note:**

> I finally listened to cabin pressure after literally six years of thinking about it and it was everything I could have wanted and more. I've been relistening to it for like three days now. I did a surprising amount of googling for such a short story, but if I've messed up on geography or airport facts feel free to let me know!
> 
> title is from "Friends Never Say Goodbye" by Elton John.


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